


no one mourns the wicked

by maddogkyouchan



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cheating, Domestic Violence, M/M, Vague AU, these are not tags i ever thought i would put on a fic so. wow, tyrian kills an abusive salem idk what to tell you, vague mention of bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddogkyouchan/pseuds/maddogkyouchan
Summary: How lucky to be precious to her. To be the only person to see this side of her, the godly fury behind her beautiful appearance.
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts, Tyrian Callows/Salem
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	no one mourns the wicked

**Author's Note:**

> my friend and i are rping rwby right now in a modern/realistic college au and entirely accidentally developed watts/tyrian (when originally we werent even gonna touch the villains... whoops). salem will be going to jail eventually so i wrote this fun alternate instead
> 
> this was originally titled 'salami fucking dies'

“-reprehensible, what you do to him,” Arthur responds, voice growing louder.

Tyrian has been tuned out most of this fight- it started with his goddess’s hand on his shoulder, firmly enough that he could feel her nails through his shirt, and an accusation- one that was too obviously true. After all, Tyrian struggles to lie to his goddess- for her to look him in the eyes and ask if his dalliances, the ones leaving bruises across his body that she didn’t approve of, have been with Arthur Watts… no. He didn’t have the strength to deflect, let alone lie.

“You say that, but you leave him littered in bruises,” she sighs, her voice heavenly. It sends a shudder through him- normally pleasant, but now… he’s afraid.

“And?” he counters. “You do the same, and while mine are in good fun, yours are only to punish and upset him.”

Tyrian tunes out again. He already knows how this will end. No one will stand up to his goddess and make it out unharmed- as it should be. But Watts- Arthur. Arthur, who told him he should be allowed to want for things outside of his goddess and her wishes. Arthur, who braids his hair with care. Who holds him tight and hurts him just right and scolds him when he’s injured on a job, not because he’s his property, but because he’s worried for him.

For the first time, he doesn’t want to be his goddess’s blade. This could have continued if he’d kept his mouth shut. If he hadn’t begged Arthur to leave his mark on his body. He could have kept slipping away to Arthur’s room when she didn’t need him, returning when she did- finding a balance, to keep her content and out of the loop but still getting what he… wants.

“Tyrian.” His name jolts him out of his fugue state, especially when it comes from Arthur. ...he has a hand outstretched to him. “We can do this one of two ways. You come with me, and we cut ties with her. Or she has you kill me… and my backup precautions come into play, sending all the evidence I have to the police and toppling her empire.”

“Your  _ what? _ ” Her voice loses all its innocent calmness, taking on a sharper tone. “You’re lying.”

“Did you really think I’d work for you without a backup plan? Especially after what you did to Lionheart? No, I had this set up from the beginning. If I don’t put in a password twice a day, your safety net is gone. No more getting away on technicalities or lack of proof.”

It leaves Tyrian stricken. To plot against his goddess- all this time- it makes him wonder. Was sleeping with him just another strike against her? No, he determines just as quickly, with a certainty that he hasn’t felt in a while. After all- Arthur hasn’t mentioned the third option at all. Where Tyrian stays, and she leaves Arthur be. Someone as thorough as Arthur- yes, he would have thought of that. But if he won’t consider it an option, that means… he’s insisting Tyrian go with him.

“...he won’t leave with you anyway,” she finally speaks again, having gathered her bearings. “Do you really think he’d turn his back on me just for someone he’s slept with?” She rests a hand on his shoulder again. Despite her wearing it, the rings on her fingers feel ice cold, even through his shirt. It brings back memories- those same cold rings hitting his stomach, her taking out her anger after a great failure. At the time, he thought-

How lucky to be precious to her. To be the only person to see this side of her, the godly fury behind her beautiful appearance.

When the rings tore his skin, he felt blessed.

When Arthur saw the cuts, he sighed- sat him down on his couch, covered them in medicine, and bandaged them carefully. He told Tyrian to be careful. To value himself. That being a scapegoat isn’t the same as being loved by God.

But now. To be told to go against said God- no. To be  _ asked _ to go against her. To be allowed to make his own choice.

But to go against his goddess… to turn his back on the person he’s worshipped for years, for a mere mortal who only showed him a touch of kindness…

He giggles, and it slowly grows into a full cackle.

Isn’t that just romantic?

They both seem taken aback, but while she drops her hand like he’s burning, Arthur keeps his hand outstretched. And doesn’t that just solidify the choice he’s already made?

“I think I choose- neither option!” He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, as Arthur cocks an eyebrow. Before either of them can question him, he reaches for his waistband, pulling a blade from its sheath hidden under his clothes. After all, what kind of betrayal would it be to simply walk away?

“Tyrian,” Salem says sharply. “You’re not-”

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence. She doesn’t even get the time to take a single step back before blood is flooding from her throat, marring her pale skin. And maybe he’ll wonder what she was going to say or do. Maybe one day it will bother him. But for now, he watches his goddess reach for her throat, choking on her own death.

Even in her final moments, she doesn’t reach for him. After all, he was only a convenient pawn. A title he would have been proud of, before. She collapses quickly, the blood flowing out further on the floor, filling in gaps between tiles and staining them red.

“Oh,” Tyrian huffs, almost a whine. “She dies like a person.”


End file.
